


Heart of Chambers

by 10milestereo



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6002503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10milestereo/pseuds/10milestereo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa and Clarke get real (naked)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart of Chambers

Steam. Warmth. The smell of leather and smoke mixed with the pop and crackle of fire upon wood. 

Down a small, candle-lit stairway, Clarke found who she had asked for, who she had pleaded to see, but she suddenly felt awkward and out of place, like she was imposing on a moment of peace and privacy. Before her, Lexa relaxed in one of the rectangular, in-ground baths, her eyes closed, framed with messy, black paint that trailed to her cheeks, her back against rough stone. Clarke sighed and shifted her attention to the crude yet impressive room, taking in the wood and rock and the flames that created frenetic shadows on the walls, as she made her way over to the Commander. Unaffected green eyes opened and focused on Clarke. Clarke stood above her and made a point to maintain contact and connection. The dark water below provided coverage up to pronounced collarbones, but it was still so tempting to look closer and harder. 

"When I asked Titus to bring me to you, I didn't think he would lead me here. I can go." Clarke started to turn away but stopped when she heard a low splash and a hiss of pain. Through the rising steam, Lexa carefully shifted in the tub. "Are you all right?"

"I will be." Lexa took a shaky breath. The hot water felt good on achy muscles - her still healing wounds, not so much, but her bruised and recovering body was the least of her worries. One challenge after another. One decision after another. One war after another. Lexa was born to lead and born to die. Her wet hands appeared out of the water and gently wiped at her face, removing much of the black paint at her eyes and cheeks. She looked up and met a cool blue gaze of concern. "Stay, Clarke. Please." 

Clarke nodded her head. She removed her leather jacket, revealing a sleeveless shirt and slender arms, and took a seat on the floor against the wall. She watched the water, mostly still except for an occasional movement, and thought about the great fight that had taken place several days ago. She had tried to put an end to it before it even started, tried to convince Lexa to stand down, to not die, and felt deep defeat when no words or actions were meaningful enough to change her mind. It was maddening, that confidence, that stubbornness, that fearlessness; those qualities were the exact same ones that made Lexa so damn strong and alluring in the first place. In the middle of the battle, there was a single moment when Clarke truly believed she was about to witness the death of the Commander, of seeing the sight of her bloodied, lifeless body lying in the dirt. That fear had stayed with her, drilled straight into her bones. A short time ago, Clarke had longed for retribution. Hatred had consumed her, kept her up at night, all those nights wandering alone and cursing the heartless warrior, but now, the idea, this inevitable feeling, of losing Lexa felt like losing everything. Peace was clearly not an option in this world. Maybe it would always be like that. Maybe not. The Commander was not the only one who could be incredibly stubborn. Clarke swallowed and glanced over at Lexa. Soft, hooded eyes stared back at her, and she couldn't look away. It was quiet, so quiet, except for the logs of wood being devoured by fire. "Why do I feel like this isn't over?" 

"Because it isn't." Lexa finally shifted her gaze. She appeared calm and collected, like usual, but she felt the immense weight on her shoulder blades. She had successfully united twelve clans, almost thirteen. So much bloodshed out of fear, not out of strategy, and now three hundred of her own people were ashes and embers. "War never changes, Clarke." 

"But what if we can change it together?" There was no room for optimism, Clarke knew that, but she also knew how powerful they both could be working as one instead of perpetuating a pattern of violence and betrayal. "What if we go to Arkadia? We can leave first thing in the morning." 

"My vow to you will be the death of me, either at the hands of my people or your people." 

"Then take it back. I don't want your fealty. I never asked for it anyway."

Lexa swallowed and let a flash of hurt hit her face and then it was gone. Clarke was trying to fix the unfixable and unavoidable once again. Lexa appreciated that about her, that indestructible idealism, that unwavering need to problem solve, even when there was no solution to be found. War was black and white, but death was not. "But you have it. You have me. Always." Lexa was resolute, and the last word had been said. She watched Clarke continue to sit there, her eyebrows knitted, her lips half-parted as if she had something to add, still had some fight in her left, but there was nothing more to say. Lexa took her hands out of the water again and inspected the wound on her left palm.

"How does your hand look?" Clarke crawled closer to the Commander. She reached for a thin wrist and examined her hand with a delicate touch. The wound was healing, but the skin was pink and tattered. "I'll fix you up again after you get out." Clarke innocently glanced at the water, inadvertently taking in the view of modest breasts below the surface.

"Do you wish to join me?" 

Blue eyes responded with surprise. Clarke shifted her attention to Lexa and wondered how the Commander could ooze such confidence while being so vulnerable. She wondered if she knew how much she enjoyed her persistence. Clarke bit her bottom lip and thought it over for a moment before climbing to her feet. It was a challenge she wanted to take the Commander up on. "Okay." She undid the ties of her shirt, slipping it off and revealing a toned stomach and full breasts. Clarke glanced down at Lexa and noticed that her green eyes were wide and electric, and she suddenly felt waves of heat lap at her body. She slipped off her pants and underwear and could still feel that burning, familiar stare as she climbed down a small set of stone stairs that sunk and disappeared into the water. Clarke moved to a side of the bath, one that ran perpendicular to where Lexa was, and crouched down, suddenly feeling very naked and exposed. 

"Was that bold display for your people too?" Lexa could not help the smirk that appeared at her mouth. She recalled their late night conversation, when she had visited Clarke in her room after her victory against Queen Nia. She had wanted to thank her for supporting her so vehemently when all of the other ambassadors had turned against her without hesitation, but she also wanted to know why she stood by her, where this drive and passion came from to save her life. Lexa had wished to hear a different answer when Clarke revealed her motivation, but there was something more there, wasn't there? She doubted herself several times since that night, whether or not she felt something change between them, and there was no uncertainty now. 

Clarke shook her head and offered a smile in return. She felt a rush of courage. Maybe it was that cocky smirk. Maybe it was the heat getting to her. Maybe it was the undeniable ache of her arousal. Maybe it was Lexa looking at her like she was prey. Her heart was going to beat out of her chest if she didn't get up and move. Clarke eased herself toward the Commander, her ample breasts visible, before kneeling in front of Lexa with a gentle splash. With hungry eyes and a craving mouth, Clarke brought a hand out of the water, and with her thumb, wiped a trace of the remaining war paint off of Lexa's cheek. She leaned in close, pressing herself against Lexa and pressing decisive lips against soft, eager ones again and again in languid rhythm. Clarke's hands soon found their way to dark hair and braided locks, and she matched every kiss with an open, urgent mouth until they slowed to a tender stop. 

Lexa rested her forehead against Clarke's and sighed contentedly. She smoothed over blonde hair with attentive strokes of her fingers. Without even looking, Lexa could feel the smile radiating from Clarke, and for the first time in a long time, she let herself smile too, genuine and unstoppable. Oh, doom was still in the air; it was simply part of the atmosphere. But doom would have to wait another day.


End file.
